The Pale Tower
The ledger showed fourteen hours of work, a sum that equated to two shillings and sixpence, a pittance that would not cover the cost of the tallow candles I had burned through, let alone the rent on my lodgings above the chandler’s shop. I counted the coins in the tin box on my desk, the metal clicking against itself with a dry, hollow sound, a rhythm that matched the throbbing behind my left...
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